Susan Boyle, Susan Boyle. The world is agog with this Scottish “lass”. I use the term “lass” rather liberally.
Whilst the world marvels at her voice and debates on how soon her hairstyle, frocks and eyebrows are going to undergo a glitzy Hollywood style makeover, I wonder why no one has commented on the one thing that had caught my attention on that episode of Britain’s Got Talent.
Susan Boyle had no hang-ups about telling the world that she’s 47.
Didn’t that strike anyone else? I have a friend (who shall remain nameless, for I do value my life & she knows where I live), who has been 39+ for the past XXXXXX years.
Though, I’ve got to hand it to her; she’s done a good job of looking young, without the help of plastic surgery and layers of western make-up plastered on her face. Yet, some of us know that we (to be honest, that’s more me than anyone else) can make her life a living hell but just threatening to hand out a few obscure clues about her age.
She’s not the only one. There are women who would rather be shot than even give a clue to their age. Oh, sure, they will spew forth statements like, “I’ve been working in this industry for 10 years,” but God only knows if they started working in other industries during World War II.
Then you have American movies which really makes you think on the subject of age. The stories normally go something like this.
Gorgeous mature woman meets cash rich man. Woman claims to be 30. Asinine man is over the moon, marries her.
Ten years passes. She’s supposed to be 40. Then, surprise, surprise, he finds out she’s actually 60 (hmmm … what gave it away?). Oh, oh!
You’ll just have to imagine the man staggering with shock at this point and me left wondering how the hell anyone could pull that off. After all, over here, even the bank teller whom you’ve never laid eyes on before knows your age from your MyKad (Identification Card) number.
Why is it so difficult for people to accept their age? Of course there are times when my age bothers me. As an Indian female in Malaysia, some people may use different terms to address me in informal settings. This could be, “younger sister”, “sister”, “elder sister”, “mother”, “auntie” and for the really old – “grandma”.
That transition that I had to make from “younger sister” to “elder sister” was a little unsettling. From unsettling, it turned into a feeling somewhat like a mild electric shock when ten years later, I was addressed as “auntie”. Sigh!
Sigh, sigh, sigh!
On that first occasion, I just froze. My mind screamed, ““HUH? Who you calling aunite? Moron!”
Then as I stared with narrowed eyes at the person who had addressed me, it made sense. These young working adults were the same age as my college going nieces who called me Aunty non-stop. Time to wake up and smell the old roses!
So, Susan Boyle, you have my utmost respect. For going where no woman would venture. For standing in front of caustic Simon Cowell, whilst the world watched (and later more than 85 million views on the Internet) and declaring your age without apologizing or being even a tiny bit embarrassed about it.
I only hope Susan Boyle, that you’re for real and not some publicity stunt that was pulled to boost ratings.